


For The Night Has Been Unkind

by edenbound



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sex, bootlicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edenbound/pseuds/edenbound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds it hard to accept that Castiel can love him the way he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Night Has Been Unkind

This has probably got out of hand. Dean feels like they're skating on thin ice, and he's pretty sure this is one of the most stupid things he's ever done, but all the same he can't quite bring himself to stop it. He couldn't imagine anyone being able to, either. It's not like he's normally into this. He's not even normally into guys, but Castiel's hardly your common or garden variety guy, so that's okay. And he wouldn't normally be into -- he wouldn't normally have someone kneeling for him, anyway, no matter what the circumstances. But it was Castiel who knelt, of his own accord, so that's different too, that's okay.

"You are uncomfortable," Castiel says. He tilts his head and his eyes narrow.

"This isn't something I normally do."

Castiel leans down, his hand curling around Dean's ankle. He places a kiss just above where his boot begins. Dean can hardly feel it, through the thick denim of his warmest pair of jeans, but his stomach flips anyway, and he's so fucking hard already, his shorts slightly sticky, dragging over the head of his cock when he shifts. He whimpers and Castiel looks up again.

"You find it difficult to accept," he says, without any question in his voice. He kisses again. "Difficult to accept that I would want to be with you. Difficult to accept that someone such as me would love you. And you find it difficult to accept worship."

"You know by now I'm nothing worth worshipping, Cas," Dean says, voice rough as hell.

"You are imperfect," Castiel says, carefully. "As are we all. And yet you are God's creation. You are exactly the way you should be."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that, and Castiel doesn't give him any time -- or at least, he doesn't stop what he's doing, and Dean can't think for watching him, for watching his mouth. He's kissing down over the side of Dean's boot, which should never be erotic but is somehow anyway. His tongue darts out to taste the leather -- and okay, he can probably angel-clean them so there's no dirt, but that should still be a little gross, even though somehow it isn't -- and his eyes close, as if he's _enjoying_ this. Dean squirms a little in his seat, his cock throbbing a little -- just because of the expression on Castiel's face, intent and focused and pleased, he tells himself. And if Cas wants to, well, he's not gonna argue.

"You fought me when I took you out of hell, too," he says, without looking up, now. Dean's mesmerised by Castiel's tongue on the leather of his boots. "You told me you couldn't be the one I wanted, that you didn't deserve it... I had to hold you so hard, burning my mark into your flesh." Another lick. "I think you liked it, the pain of that. It was the only thing that was real to you, then."

"Cas," Dean says, voice even thicker. He's starting to think about twitching away, ending this, now that Castiel's brought up hell. He's not the kind of thing Castiel should want, either. But Castiel holds him fast -- just by that ankle, but immovably, even though the way he kisses and licks is almost tender. Full of worship.

"I loved you then. I put you back together with infinite care, Dean. I had to try and match the perfection of your soul. You were tarnished, like silver, but I cleansed you. I woke the blood in your body, I _was_ the beat of your heart. I felt alive, then, Dean. And I was happy. Doing something so great. You fought me and I seared you, and you still didn't stop. I had never understood stubbornness, courage, loyalty -- all those things -- until I held you in my arms and brought you back to life. I was the breath in your lungs."

"I'm not -- "

"You're everything I knew you were then," Castiel says, tongueing the laces of Dean's boot. "You fill me with wonder. You are infuriating, and incomprehensible, and that is all a part of why I want you."

"You shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what, Dean? Shouldn't want you? Or shouldn't do this? You can't command me." A kiss, a lick, and Castiel's pushing his jeans up, baring a strip of his leg, and he leans up to kiss there, lick there. That's like a warm shock of electricity, a jolt, and Dean's cock jerks hard, spills precome in his shorts -- which is ridiculous, because it's nothing much, but --

"Cas," he says, just a warm gasp, and Castiel smiles.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Please."

"I don't know what you want." Castiel kisses that patch of skin again, his breath blowing warm over it, and then he straightens up, tugging Dean's jeans back into place. He rises to his feet in a fluid movement, slipping off his trench coat. "You have to tell me. You have to let yourself."

"I don't need some... lesson in self understanding, Cas," Dean says, though he's kind of distracted as Castiel moves into his lap, cups the back of his neck with a warm hand -- a hand that is too warm, really, a warmth that does and does not remind him of the seared handprint. The essence of an angel, contained, restrained. A fire banked.

"I could hurt you again, if that's what you want," Castiel says, and the gentleness in his voice tears at Dean somehow, finds the cracks and sinks in, levers them open. "But I just want to love you."

Dean closes his eyes. "Yes," he says, hoarse. "Okay."

It seems strange to think, but when Castiel's lips press against his, smooth and dry, this kiss almost chaste -- that's their first kiss, despite everything, despite their intensity, despite the way Castiel had been on his knees. Dean lifts his hands, presses them to Castiel's shoulderblades, imagines the wings that should be under his touch.

"Yes," he says, again, trying to open and accept, _willing_ it. Castiel kisses him again, pushing his tongue into his mouth now, caressing the side of his neck with his thumb.

"I'll take care of you," he says, as Dean shudders underneath him. "I will give you what you need."


End file.
